


Long-Forgotten Fairytale

by qodarkness



Series: Love Is Like A Bottle Of Gin [8]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 69 Love Songs, Another piece of the Theon/Sansa puzzle, Everyone’s growing up, F/M, Love Is Like A Bottle Of Gin Universe, Magnetic Fields, MidWinter’s Eve, Modern AU, Other, Recovery from trauma, Robb Stark is a Gift, Songfic, Stark family celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qodarkness/pseuds/qodarkness
Summary: “So,” said Robb, standing up, and only swaying the tiniest bit. “It’s time to hear from all of you. What’s the best thing that happened to you this year?“
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Bran Stark & Meera Reed & Jojen Reed, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling, Theon Greyjoy & Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy & Sansa Stark, Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Series: Love Is Like A Bottle Of Gin [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581478
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Long-Forgotten Fairytale

Midwinter’s Eve had been an excuse for a Stark family party for as long as Sansa remembered.

She had a moment, looking around the table, to wonder if they were all growing up at last – it seemed less a party now, more a family celebration. There were girlfriends and boyfriends and friends and other, less clear, relationships around the table, but no one was noticeably drunk and food and conversation had started to take over from the old shouting and drinking games that had been dominant for a few years there.

Ned and Catelyn had started the night with them, but had ended up leaving early to catch a flight down to The Vale to catch up with the Arryns and, overriding his protests that he was totally old enough now to stay with his siblings, had dragged Rickon along with them. The rest of the Stark children, their partners or… whatevers, as well as Jon Snow and the Greyjoys had been left behind at Winterfell to hold the fort on the longest night of the year.

It was, unsurprisingly, Robb that started it. The oldest Stark child, he took his role as keeper of family traditions seriously and his steady tinking of his fork against his glass finally caused the hubbub of voices around the table to fall away into silence. 

“So,” said Robb, standing up, and only swaying the tiniest bit. “It’s time to hear from all of you. What’s the best thing that happened to you this year? Mmmm,” he looked around and then, pushing back his chair, spun around with his eyes closed, pointing with his fork. Opening his eyes, he smiled. “Arya!” he shouted, at the sister who his fork was pointing at. “What’s the best thing that happened to you this year?”

Arya leaned back in her chair, Gendry’s arm slung behind her, her face a picture of fierce concentration as she thought it through. She had always taken the ritual very seriously, but this was the first time she’d gone first. Obviously, Sansa thought, she’d always taken the time the others took to answer to think about it, as she was normally quick to respond. She took her time, but nobody was impatient, and they let Arya think until she finally relaxed and the scowl dropped off her face. “The best thing that happened to me this year,” she said, not looking at Gendry, “was working out that saying “I love you” isn’t a sign of weakness.” 

Gendry’s arm tightened around Arya’s shoulders suddenly and she turned her face, almost shyly, from her siblings, dropped a kiss on his shoulder. “Your turn,” she said softly to her boyfriend.

It was the first year that Gendry had ever been to a Midwinter’s Eve at the Starks and he looked a little confused, but Arya nudged her hand against his hip and raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “The best thing that happened to me this year,” he said, looking a little concerned, but everyone nodded him along, “was…” he stopped and thought, but his eyes were fixed on Arya, who gazed up at him, solemn-faced. “Was,” he said, in that slow, deep voice of his that made him sound a bit bullish and not so clever, but concealed one of the best and kindest people Sansa had ever met, “was working out that it’s okay to give someone time and space to find out who they are and that’s not the same thing as losing them.” 

Arya leaned forward and lifted her glass, and everyone around the table raised theirs in response. “To Arya and Gendry,” said Sansa, dryly, “may they ever be revoltingly in touch with their feelings,” and made a face at her little sister when Arya poked her tongue out at her. 

“Who’s next?” Arya asked Gendry, as she put her glass down and he looked around the table, somewhat confused. “Um, Robb?” he said, raising an eyebrow in a request for permission and Robb laughed. 

“It’s okay, Gendry,” he said, “this thing is a free for all. Once, Theon was pissed enough to tell Mum that the best thing that happened to him that year was a threesome. Fuck knows where Jon found it, but he ended up throwing a bucket of water over Theon to stop him describing the details in all their epic glory to Ned’s face. I’ve never seen anyone try to ground an eighteen year old boy before, but Catelyn gave it a good try. And you,” said Robb, pointing at Theon, “were so embarrassed you ended up grounding yourself.” 

Yara turned and looked at her little brother, who shrugged. “I’ve matured as a person since then,” said Theon, nonchalantly, and Yara punched his upper arm lightly. “Robb!” said Theon, firmly ignoring Yara.

“The best thing that happened to me this year,” said Robb and smiled down at the woman sitting beside him, “was finding the courage to try something new. Jeyne?” 

Jeyne Westerling smiled up at him. “The best thing that happened to me this year,” she said, “was finally meeting Jon Snow and finding out why all of you Starks looked at me so oddly every time you said my name. No offence,” she said and raised her glass, “but that first five months was weird.” 

“Not your fault,” said Jon as he led the toast to Jeyne and Robb. “Apparently Jeyne was the most popular girl’s name in Westeros about twenty odd years ago. And the Starks are all drama addicts.” 

“Really?” said Jeyne, who had long since worked that out, and laughed, curling her hand around Robb’s. “Then it’s your turn, Jon Snow. What’s the best thing that happened to you this year?” 

Jon looked around him and then nodded at Arya. “The best thing that happened to me this year was coming home,” he said firmly, and then leaned sideways into the woman beside him. “Ygritte?” he asked. 

The flame haired woman looked around her. She had come down from The Wall with Jon when he moved back home, from where he’d spent the last few years learning to be a dog musher, along with his great white lead dog, Ghost. Used to the emptiness that surrounded The Wall, and spending days crossing the tundra with only her dogs for company, Ygritte generally found the Starks fairly overwhelming. Fortunately, her strength of character more than made up for that.

“The best thing that happened to me this year,” she declared and turned, looking into Jon’s eyes, her hand reaching out and lightly touching his cheek, “was coming home,” she finished softly. 

There was silence for a moment and then Robb noisily cleared his throat. “Well,” he said. “Yes.” He raised his glass and Ygritte raised hers and then downed the Wildling spirit she kept stocked in the liquor cabinet in one swift swallow. “Bran!” she said, as she slammed her glass down. 

Bran looked around him with his usual inscrutable gaze. “The best thing that happened to me this year,” he said, coolly, “was beating Jojen and Meera at Super Mario Kart. That one time,” he added, then glanced to each side of him. “Jojen,” he said, eventually, after weighing it up. 

“The best thing that happened to me this year,” said Jojen, “was finally getting my medication right, so the seizures stopped.” 

He had met Bran at the hospital, in rehabilitation, Bran from the climbing accident that had robbed him of the use of his legs, Jojen from the seizures that were slowly getting worse, slowly killing him. Somehow, Bran and Jojen and his sister, Meera, had become inseparable. Bran may have been dating Jojen, Sansa thought, or Meera, or both or neither. No one in the Stark family was quite sure and Bran wasn’t going to enlighten them, and when it came down to it, no one really cared. Jojen and Meera made Bran happy and Bran made them happy and whatever was going on between the three of them was a matter for them and no one else. 

But Jojen was, finally, getting better and that was a matter for celebration for all of them. 

But not quite yet. “Meera,” said Jojen and the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl looked very serious as she thought about her answer. 

Finally she said, “The best thing that happened to me this year was staying on top of the Super Mario Kart rankings, no matter about that one time,” and smiled. Then her face grew serious. “And the other best thing that happened to me was meeting Bran and all of you. There’s a lot of people from this part of town that look down on Crannogmen. None of you have ever made Jojen or me feel like we’re – well, like you don’t think we’re as good as you.”

“They’re good at that,” said Theon, sagely, into the small silence that followed Meera’s words. “And believe me, when I met them, I wasn’t as good as them and these guys still didn’t make me feel like it.” 

“You were not…” started Robb, hotly. 

“Shut up, Robb,” said Theon, fondly. “Just let me wallow in my self-pity for the terrible family life you rescued me from. Except for this one.” He tapped Yara on the head lightly with his knuckles. “Can’t seem to stop her from following me around the country.” 

“You’re the one who invited me to the party, little brother,” said Yara but she grinned at Theon, her eyes soft in a way that was only ever for him. 

“Meera,” said Robb, deciding it wasn’t worth fighting the battle. “Thank you,” he said. “For making Bran happy, the both of you.” He raised his glass. “To Bran and the Reeds, Jojen and Meera.” 

“May there be more Mario Kart and a lot less hospital in your future,” added Sansa and Meera ducked her head with shyness, but took a sip of her red wine and clinked her glass against those of Jojen and Bran. 

Then she looked across the table. “Yara,” said Meera. 

“The best thing that happened to me this year,” said Yara, promptly, as decisively as she did everything, “was getting my Captain’s ticket and taking over the fleet on Pyke. No more of Balon’s old ways.” 

“Just give us a couple of years before you take over the world, right?” said Theon and laughed as Yara rolled her eyes at him. 

“You just remember how fast you need to run just to keep up with me, little brother,” she replied. 

“Like I’ve got a chance of keeping up with the Queen of Pyke,” said Theon. “Just remember that I haven’t pulled your hair in at least fifteen years. That’s got to put me in the good books, right?” 

Yara smiled and didn’t answer. “Tell us your best thing, Theon,” she said instead. 

“The best thing that happened to me this year,” said Theon, and drew a deep breath, held it for a while before finally letting it out in a sigh, “was swimming on Midsummer’s Eve.”

“Really?” said Robb, surprised. “Not winning a gold medal at the Westeros Games?”

Theon grinned, remembering the moment when he’d proven his archery talents even beyond his father’s many doubts, but shook his head. “That was pretty fucking amazing,” he agreed. “But no. I know what was the best thing.”

He’d always been a confident swimmer, Sansa remembered. Her first memories of Theon primarily revolved around him and Robb being in the family pool together, Theon swimming as freely and strongly as any kraken. It was an Iron Islands thing, he’d told them, learning to swim before you could walk, because the risk of losing kids into the cold seas was so great. As he’d grown older and got prouder, he’d enjoyed flaunting his lean muscles in tight swimming shorts, a lazy, golden boy who ruled the pool, even earning enough income from teaching kids to swim to keep his shitty old car on the road.

It had taken more than a year after he’d escaped from Ramsay before he’d come out to swim again, and his first tentative steps onto the deck around the Stark’s pool had made it clear that he might flee again. Instead of his usual tight swim shorts, Theon had board shorts on, that hung below his knees, and a tight rash vest that covered him from neck to wrists. 

Sansa hadn’t understood the look in his eyes then, but she did now. It was more than shame and fear: it was the shame of being ashamed, of knowing that dressing as he did meant that all the Starks gathered there knew he was terrified of letting any of them see his scars, that wearing the armour that covered him up showed them exactly how vulnerable he truly felt. 

Then Robb had grinned and got out of the pool and grabbed Theon’s hand. “Cannonball run?” he’d suggested to his best friend and Sansa felt tears well behind her eyes, remembering the look of desperate gratitude Theon had turned on Robb, for allowing him the dignity of treating him as if nothing was any different from usual. Then they’d turned and run and jumped, curling into balls in the air and emerging with a laugh from the giant waves they’d made as they’d bombed into the middle of the pool. 

They’d got used to it over time, the fact that Theon was always covered from neck to knee when he swam, the fact that no-one was ever allowed to see his scars. Sansa had gained a new appreciation for it when she had returned from King’s Landing, unable to wear mini-skirts or shorts, remembering always the bruises that Joffrey had given her, that had left her legs black and blue. Although the bruises had long faded away, the shame of them, the need to cover up, had remained. 

They had expected nothing different on Midsummer’s Eve, when the lazy morning family brunch had slowly drifted out to the pool, and everyone had started swimming and playing in the water. It was Sansa, curled up on a lounger in her sarong, that had seen Theon first, as he’d emerged from the house, a towel slung over his shoulder, dressed again only in swim shorts. For a moment, her breath had caught in her throat at the sight of his scars, at what had been done to him, but then she looked up at his face. The glance between them was full of recognition, of shame and courage and a complexity of feelings that Sansa summed up with a nod at Theon, met with his small, possibly trembling, half-smile. 

Then Arya had looked up, then Bran, and Gendry and Yara and a small silence had grown, enough to make Robb turn his head from where he was studiously attempting to drown Jon, freshly returned from The Wall. “Theon,” shouted Robb, and then duck-dived his way to the edge of the pool and dragged himself out. He grinned at Theon, poked him in his chest, where silvery scars crawled across most of his skin. “Cannonball run?” he suggested again, and Theon’s eyes were full of gratitude again. Theon dropped his towel, and took Robb’s hand and Sansa couldn’t help but laugh as the two boys (and in that moment, it felt like they were twelve year old boys again, innocent and uncomplicated and already pledged to be best friends for life) hit the water like a bomb. 

It was as if Theon was able to breathe easier after that, let a tension that had been part of him for years finally ease. He still wasn’t comfortable with anyone outside the family group seeing his scars, but it was, they all recognised, a giant step forward for him. 

“To the Greyjoys,” said Robb, shaking Sansa out of her reverie and she raised her glass, as Yara mussed Theon’s curls and he’d rolled his eyes in long-suffering adoration of his big sister. 

“Well, Sans,” said Theon, turning to her then. “You’re it.”

She took a deep breath, then and made her decision. If Theon was going to be that honest, then she should be as well. So she discarded the answer she’d carefully prepared, about her University marks and her Dean’s essay award and said instead, “The best thing that happened to me this year was buying that Melisandre sequinned miniskirt and wearing it to the awards night. And, you know, winning the award,” she added, with a wry grin. 

Arya shook her head. “Fashion, Sansa,” she said, in an exaggeratedly disappointed tone.

But Theon looked at Sansa, compassion and understanding in his eyes and she blushed and ducked her head slightly. It was hard to explain to anyone who hadn’t been through it, but he knew and that made it easier. 

“To Sansa,” said Robb, standing up, and Sansa raised her glass and clinked it against Robb’s and then Theon’s, on either side of her. 

“Now,” said Robb. “The kisses! Which, you know, has got easier to pick at least,” and he laughed as Theon leaned over Sansa and puckered up at Robb. 

“What?” said Theon and laughed as Robb tapped him on the head with his knuckles. 

“I said easier, not easy, lover-boy,” replied Robb and then sat down again and kissed Jeyne beside him. 

When they’d finished, Robb winked at Jon, who turned and kissed Ygritte happily, until she reached up and tugged at a lock of his hair and finally lifted his lips from hers.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she said, slightly breathlessly. “I’m not good at public displays of affection.” 

“Oh, really?” Jon replied with a grin and then Ygritte kissed him again, with an enthusiasm that belied her previous statement. 

“Oi, you two,” bellowed Robb and Ygritte finally let Jon go and smiled happily at his older cousin, her eyes bright. 

Arya was next and made them all laugh as she swung her leg over Gendry and sat in his lap, wriggling her hips exaggeratedly as he firmly and noisily kissed her, his arms making giant sweeping motions up and down her back, until Arya was laughing so hard she had to climb off him and giggle into her wine.

Everyone turned then to look at Bran and Sansa let a small smile touch her lips as Bran looked inscrutable and the two Reeds exchanged glances across him. Then Jojen and Meera shrugged and both leaned forward, leaving a soft kiss each on Bran’s cheeks. Then they both blushed as Bran suddenly unleashed a massive smile and reached out and gripped both their shoulders, drawing them into a firm hug. “Love you guys,” he said softly and Robb laughed with sudden joy. Bran had been through a lot and it cheered the whole family to see him happy. 

Then Theon looked at Yara, who shook her head firmly. “Nah-ah, I ain’t kissing you, little brother.”

“You don’t know where he’s been,” said Jon and Yara laughed.

“I do know where he’s been,” said Yara firmly. “It’s why I’m not kissing him!”

“Then you’d better kiss Sansa,” said Robb to Theon, who looked startled and turned to Sansa.

“Only if you want me to?” Theon said to Sansa, searching her face with anxious eyes.

She looked at him for a long moment, considering. There had been no-one since Joffrey, not a single kiss, not even a peck on the cheek. But if there was going to be someone, she thought, why not someone who understood, someone she could trust. So she nodded, a small, tight movement of her head. “Yes,” she said. 

Theon nodded slowly and then reached forward, gripped her hand lightly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said, his voice reassuring. 

“Really,” Sansa said, more strongly this time. “It’s okay, Theon. I want to.”

“You’re completely sure?” he asked again.

“She said yes,” Robb said to Theon. “You’re allowed to believe her, Theon.”

Theon looked at Robb and then pressed his free hand dramatically to his chest. “Trauma, Robb,” he said, shaking his head theatrically. “It’s all about getting over trauma, darling. I’m a delicate flower.”

“Delicate flower,” snorted Robb. “The two of you are made of fucking titanium. You’re the strongest people I’ve ever known and you’ve both survived having brick fucking walls dropped on you. Sans will probably survive giving you a kiss. And Jon can probably find a bucket of water if you faint,” and he laughed as Theon flipped him the bird, a wry grin on his face. 

“Shall we?” Theon said, turning back to Sansa, who had laughed at his byplay with Robb, and she took a deep breath and smiled.

“Sure,” she said and leaned forward slightly.

It took her by surprise for a moment, the sensation of a man’s lips on hers, the first since Joffrey’s, the tickle of Theon’s neat beard against her mouth. And then her body reminded her firmly that it wasn’t Joffrey, as she looked into Theon’s ocean-blue eyes and felt his lips tilt in a smile against hers as he felt her body relax, fear leaving her.

It was a chaste kiss at first, the kiss of a friend, a brother. And then, for a moment, Sansa leaned into Theon’s mouth, and let her lips part slightly, felt him follow her movement with surprise and open his mouth, the tip of his tongue suddenly touching the centre of her upper lip, tasting, for just a moment, her tongue as she flicked it forward, her eyes closing for just another moment. 

It was there, behind her eyes then, a door that opened to show her something she had long forgotten, the memory of being young and more than half in love with Theon. And when her eyes flickered open again, met his, she saw it there too, an offer made with a glance, with the touch of his lips on hers, a door that Theon had closed a very long time ago suddenly opened, an invitation to try again.

It was too big, too large a thing. It was love, she knew that. A chance for love, at least. A chance, perhaps, for forever. 

She couldn’t do it. Not now. She had thought she had found love once and it had broken her and she hadn’t put enough pieces back together to risk it again. Not yet. 

She closed her lips then, and took them from Theon’s gently. It had been so swift that no-one around the table had seen anything but the most friendly and boring of kisses. 

But she didn’t take her eyes from Theon for a moment and below the table, her hand squeezed his tightly, trying to express her gratitude and her regret that she wasn’t ready for what might have been.

And he was Theon and he was everything now that she had hoped once that he was and his hand squeezed hers back, as he smiled at her, a gentle smile that understood. Then softly she opened her fingers, reluctantly let his hand go. 

Then Robb was saying something about Midwinter’s Eve and raising his glass and Sansa and Theon both raised theirs in a toast to the season. 

Sansa watched the shiver of the wine in her glass as her hand trembled slightly, and the touch of it against her mouth couldn’t erase the warm memory of Theon’s mouth on hers.

And she closed the door in her mind, put away the fairytale. 

She wasn’t ready yet. Not for happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I really enjoy this universe and playing with a modern AU. And watching Theon and Sansa dance around each other, the circles drawing closer in...
> 
> I also love exploring the other possible relationships and the depths of the Theon & Robb relationship. And I enjoy the idea of Bran being incredibly mysterious and inscrutable with his family about his relationship with the Reeds and all of the Starks going “do they make you happy? Good, fine, go for whatever it is you’ve got going on.”
> 
> And I’m about to go to Japan on holidays, so if I never update a story again, you’ll know that the panic about coronavirus turned out to be justified. Because I’ve got at least a couple more years of Theon/Sansa fics to get out of my system and that’s assuming I don’t think of yet MORE stories to write about them! (I’m a scientist, understand the stats and am not in a risk group, so I’m not actually worried about going!)
> 
> Lyrics to Long-Forgotten Fairytale
> 
> Someone told me you'd be here  
> Whispering these familiar things  
> Talking to my little pet, smoking the same old cigarettes  
> I would have laughed  
> I saw you last in summertime  
> You said you hated long goodbyes  
> You said, "There's nothing to explain, in every life a little rain"  
> Etcetera  
> And a long-forgotten fairytale is in your eyes again  
> And I'm caught inside a dream world where the colors are too intense  
> And nothing is making sense  
> There's a floating town of ire down in a mist of mystery  
> There's an old enchanted castle and the princess there is me  
> Decked-out like a Christmas tree  
> I guess you've had your little joke  
> But I have lost my sense of humor  
> My medication's wearing off, for it's just not strong enough  
> To cover this  
> Then you kissed me like before  
> I found…  
> Then you kissed me like before  
> I found myself wanting more  
> And you tell that little lie that kept me hypnotized  
> Another kiss  
> And a long-forgotten fairytale is in your eyes again  
> And I'm caught inside a dream world where the colors are too intense  
> And nothing is making sense  
> There's a floating town of ire down in a mist of mystery  
> There's an old enchanted castle and the princess there is me  
> Decked-out like a Christmas tree  
> If somebody told me I'd succumb  
> If someone said I'd be so dumb  
> After all the sleepless nights, when I turned on all the lights  
> I would have hit them  
> But I have turned the other cheek  
> My voice trembles, my knees are weak  
> And you beat me once again  
> And I know what happens then  
> You raise the ante  
> And a long-forgotten fairytale is in your eyes again  
> And I'm caught inside a dream world where the colors are too intense  
> And nothing is making sense


End file.
